Halo: Silver Team
by Red Geist
Summary: In the year 2551, a group of Spartan-III's uncover a secret agenda within the Covenant as a colony, which happens to be their post, comes under attack. These are their stories.
1. Chapter 1: Day 1

The grand construct known only as High Charity sat like a monster lurking in the abyssal void of space, surrounded by a swarm of bulbous purple warships that compared to the fortress were the size of specks of dust. Despite the hundreds of thousands of toiling alien warriors and workers completing tedious tasks, in prayer, sparring, or simply keeping watch of the sea of stars that stretched out infinitely, none stirred as the warship _Immortal Valor_ flowed out of slipspace and came into view.

"Shipmaster, we have arrived." An Elite clad in pale blue armor stated from his station below the raised platform, where his commander stood solitary and silent.

"Have a Phantom ready in the Starboard Docking Bay, I will see to this business myself." The Elite Shipmaster Kryne Ar'chosi turned from the center of the platform and walked towards the door opposite the bridge, the alien lighting tinting his burnished gold armor shades of purple and blue. At the door a pair of Sangheili guards prepared to follow, but he raised a hand and stopped them. "I said I would see to this alone." The two guards backed away, allowing the towering Elite commander to continue down the hallway.

High Charity was the capital of the Covenant hegemony, a symbol of their reach and unrelenting hunger for domination over all others. The towering walls that stretched dozens of feet into the air were commonplace, allowing the chilled air to collect in a fog high above that sometimes obscured the ceiling. Shades of purples, violets, and gold covered every bulkhead and door. Shipmaster Kryne stood at the center of a vast elevator platform while a half dozen Sangheili Honor guards stood at the edge of the platform at attention, he patiently waited for the elevator to reach the top, showing little signs of emotion or even signs of movement as he drifted into a meditative trance. A few minutes past until the elevator came to a sudden halt, awakening the commander.

"Shipmaster, we have reached the Sanctum of the Hierarchs." One Elite guard came forward and met Kryne's snow colored eyes, "I must ask you to hand over all weapons on your person until your business with the Prophet of Mercy has concluded.

"I am well aware of the proper doctrine." Kryne retorted, handing over the pearl colored energy sword hilt and his plasma rifle. The honor guard held the objects in his palms exactly where the Shipmaster placed them and backed away without breaking eye contact. Kryne stepped off of the platform and proceeded down the long and exorbitant hall, a hall meant only for the most holy to tread, only for those deemed worthy of an audience with the Prophets. Yet this was also the place where the most heretical traitors within the Covenant are made to answer for their crimes…

The Elite commander kneeled before a large glowing pedestal where a single frail yet imposing figure sat in a floating throne. "High Prophet of Mercy, I have come as ordered."

"Shipmaster Kryne Ar'chosi. Lord of the Immortal Valor and the Sub-Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice…" The Prophet stated in a regal yet monotone voice, "You may rise."

"What is the purpose of this meeting my lord?" Kryne asked in a careful manner.

"Walk with me, Shipmaster." Mercy floated forward from the glowing pedestal and past Kryne, causing him to turn on his heel and follow beside him. "During your previous engagement in the Ferris Expanse, did you notice anything odd among your troops on the ground?"

"All of the ships sent by Truth insisted on fielding the Jiralhanae, knowing full well how they would work with my Elite officers. They disobeyed my orders and caused the deaths of many of my brethren."

"That is exactly what worries me. Truth is putting too much trust in the Brutes and Regret is too inexperienced to realize there is a problem. The Elites have always been the high protectors of our Covenant, but I fear the Brutes will cause our downfall."

"This is a definite problem, sir. But what is the point in summoning me?" Kryne asked, just as the Prophet of Mercy stopped in the Prophets' private chamber. The large door made an alien humming sound and slid shut.

A hologram of a beautiful world appeared in the center of the room. "In my many years overseeing the research and study of the Holy Dreadnought, this planet came up in many highly encrypted documents. It is supposedly a fortress world, containing weapons of unimaginable power created to combat some infection or plague that blighted our ascendants. If you gain control of this technology, the Elites can keep their place as our protectors and the quest for the Great Journey shall no longer be impeded."

"I shall muster a fleet of my kin and comrades and can be ready within a day!" Kryne zealously exclaimed.

"No! This must be done with upmost secrecy. If such a large fleet massed in a single system Truth or Regret would take notice. You will go with only your own ship, but I have already ordered the transfer of many of the most skilled and hardened veterans of our Covenant to your vessel. I have also taken the liberty of upgrading your troop armories and vehicle compliments."

"I can only be thankful sir, there are no further words to express my gratitude."

"Simply be aware that this world you are going to, it is controlled by the humans."

"With the gifts you have given me they will not be a problem."

"Then take your leave, embark for the planet immediately. I will maintain utmost loyalty to every one of Truth's decisions to remain beyond reproach and suspicion. Notify me when the planet is ours, and I will organize a coup."

"As you wish, High Prophet of Mercy." Kryne bowed once and turned to leave, the huge automatic door reeling as he approached and closed behind him. Mercy stared out through the large window before him, staring at the Covenant city below, and the Forerunner Keyship at its center.

_Meanwhile…_

The outer colony of Athens, a well fortified vanguard on the fringes of humanity's reach into the void. As the Covenant threat encroached on humanity's borders, a new initiative proposed by the Office of Naval Intelligence, to not only bolster our outer defenses but strengthen ties to the colonies was undertaken. The UNSC sent ships to eight worlds scattered across our farthest borders and turned once insignificant worlds into mighty fortresses.

Athens, the only habitable world in the Sigma system, became the home of project NORTHWEST due to its position in human space. Classified as a prehistoric garden world, the majority of the planet's landmass was converged into a single supercontinent. Over thirty years after its discovery settlements littered the pristine and beautiful vistas. At the center of the supercontinent was a vast and deep lake, so large that from orbit the continent looked like a ring rather than a single landmass. It was here that in 2549 the UNSC set up Atlantis base, a fitting name given the fact they actually anchored the base to the center of the lake. Over the next two years the UNSC, with the cooperation of the uneasy colonists, made the planet prosper. They used the spectacular and endless jungles to hide a network of underground tunnels and smaller bases, they turned their miniscule settlements into easily defendable outposts, created dozens of greenhouses to supplement the infrequent income of food, and eventually the colony became prosperous enough to receive a complement of a few SPARTAN-III supersoldiers, three dozen ODSTs, and one orbital MAC platform.

June 5th, 2551

-Day One-

The tranquil peace of the early summer morning allowed the sounds of nature to be heard throughout the halls of the base. Every room with an open window or a balcony door let the sounds of chirps of tiny birds and the quacks of frolicking swans and geese. The four waterfalls leading to and from the lake roared faintly in the distance. Slightly humid air seeped into the complex and overtook the processed odorless air and replaced it with the smells of the prehistoric world. The endless jungles and untouched habitats filled with unique animals and plants seemed to make one forget the dangers in the void of space.

It was on this date, at approximately six o' clock in the morning, that General Stan McArthur slept peacefully in his quarters. Normally it was considered a 'rule' to not disturb the general on the weekends for any reason whatsoever, but today that rule was broken. A marine in normal fatigues took one step into the general's quarters and was greeted with a shoe being thrown at his face. "Get out of here, Private." McArthur stated groggily."

"Sir, there is a priority alert in effect, we need you at the command center ASAP." The marine replied before leaving, tossing the shoe back into the general's quarters.

"It is 7:13 on a Saturday morning. What the hell is so damn important?" McArthur stormed into the command center, visibly angry.

"We have a Covenant Capital Ship inbound. System entry point and trajectory approximate ETA at eighty minutes." The command center sat at the southern tip of Atlantis, with the far wall made mostly of large windows overlooking the sparkling lake the base sat aloft in and the coastline off in the distance. The rising sun was slightly obscured by two skyscrapers off in the distance, but it still cast bright light into the command center. Men and women in army fatigues crowded around computers displaying reports and scans, all of which the general could not recognize. Some people dashed back and forth between groups, carrying papers and datapads, the room was filled with pandemonium.

"Wake up whoever is in charge of that MAC gun and tell them to go to alert status. Get civilians to bunkers and ready ground forces and air support." The general put his cranky attitude behind him, allowing him to assess the serious situation at hand. Where is Silver Team?"

"Silver Team is five minutes out from GARDIAN Tower 2."

"Get them on speaker, now."

"Silver Team to Command, sir. You rang?" The voice of a Spartan with an obvious British accent echoed over the radio, the general was handed an earpiece so he could reply.

"We read you loud and clear Sierra 254, this is General McArthur. I need you to turn around and head straight to Atlantis Base. You will receive further orders when you arrive, over and out.

Just as expected, the single Covenant Cruiser arrived on schedule, and with it came the ensuing battles. Blowing past the MAC platform with oddly superior maneuvering, it swooped in and dropped hundreds of Covenant soldiers all over the supercontinent. The champion specialist Elites and their underling hordes clashed with the well fortified and well armed human soldiers, the few thousand civilians were relocated to the inner cities and Atlantis base, and the serene tropical jungles of Athens became a warzone.

This is the story of Silver Team; a group of Spartan-IIIs whose actions helped retake the colony and thwarted the Covenant's sinister plot to use what was hidden far below the jungles of Athens. These are their stories.


	2. Chapter 2: Days 12 and 13

-Day 12-

Six Spartans stood surrounding the varnished oak table in the center of the Situation Room on Atlantis. The cloudless night sky was lit by the two of the three moons orbiting Athens, their silver light glimmering on the restless tides in the vast lake just outside. They had only a month ago received the new and experimental MJOLNIR Mark V[B] armor, but in the twelve days since the Covenant landed every man's armor has become dirtied, bloodied, but not broken. Each man tinkered or augmented their suit in one way or another, creating a unique look for them all. Ordered to wait for the general to arrive, they past the time in silence. Some checked their weapons while others stood against the wall or leaned on the table, daydreaming to pass the time. A few minutes after entering the room, General McArthur entered. One arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged, damage taken from two needler rounds impaling his arm. His fatigues were spotless down to his shins and carbon fiber boots, which were covered in dried mud and spattered with alien blood. The Spartans stood at attention and saluted, McArthur gestured for them to be at ease.

"Damn good job Spartans, taking back that mining station is sure to leave the Covenant vulnerable for the next few weeks." He gladly proclaimed after coming to stand at the head of the table.

"It's not a victory. The Covenant are still on the march, and won't stop until we are nothing but a stain in the dirt." Silver Team's leader Spartan 254, better known as David replied. His grey armor chipped and dented, but recently washed and polished to a sheen.

"Yeah you know us, sir. We don't count success until the ground fucking shakes in response!" Spartan 225, James, zealously added with his fist leaving an indent in the oak table after slamming it down. His voice, like his Captain, revealed him to be of British decent.

"Captain David is right, this planet is going to fall very soon if things keep deteriorating at the rate it is now." General McArthur sighed with a sense of dread clouding his mind, but the good news he was about to share banished the blight on his thoughts, "I made the call to ONI's CASTLE base on Reach, and ordered the transfer of a few individuals and some spare supplies. Included in the package, which will arrive approximately twenty-eight hours from now, are a dozen ODSTs, four dozen marines, and three Spartans."

"How good are these Spartans?" David asked.

"These three have been in the Lavrentian Abyss systems for months, and even the Spartan-IIs are impressed with their skill. One of them is the chief consultant to ONI for Covenant Counterintelligence, one is a damn good explosives expert, and one is of the mythic Spartan-2.5s."

"Sounds good, but what are our orders until they arrive tomorrow morning?" James asked.

"Stay on base until they get here, when all of you are set we will give you your next mission. So get yourselves cleaned up because you all smell like… whatever the hell you were stepping in." McArthur saluted with his non-bandaged hand, "Dismissed!" The Spartans also saluted, and then left.

-Day 13-

Spartan 206, Max, surveyed the dark cloudy sky with a pair of binoculars he found in the passenger seat of a Warthog. He leaned against the Gatling cannon in the rear of the vehicle and peered into the sky, looking for a break in the clouds. After about twenty minutes he finally found some good luck, a small hole in the clouds revealed the orbiting MAC station lit up like a Christmas tree. Carefully, he held his gaze and could barely make out the silhouette of a cruiser docked with the platform. "Why bother sending help? Why couldn't that cruiser just come down here and blow up that damn Covie ship?" He muttered to himself.

"That's because even the MAC gun on that station could only graze it." David walked over to Max with his helmet under his left arm, drinking refreshingly cold water from a stainless steel bottle in his right. Capping the bottle with his thumb, he secured it to his belt snuggly between a fragmentation and plasma grenade. "When they get down here, we'll make sure to unleash hell on those alien bastards."

"Well, they're on their way down, and fast too." Max never took his eyes out of the scope of the binoculars, noticing the orange dot that was a Pelican dropship entering the atmosphere. It lit up the small screen inches from his eyes like a flare, and over the course of a few long moments the aircraft grew closer, making its shape and color more visible. David felt a drop of water drop on his head and put his helmet on, just before it began to drizzle. The hot tarmac in the center of the base churned up a cloud of slight fog in its wake. Now the Pelican broke through the clouds, lighting up the sky like a fiery beacon. David could now see it with his unmagnified visor, and walked towards the center of the flight deck in anticipation of their arrival. The Pelican seemed to pick up speed as it descended, and soon the roar of its engines became a whine in their ears. More Spartans emerged from their barracks and approached the tarmac, filled with a mysterious sense of wonder. They all wanted to see who would emerge from the Pelican, the otherworldly strangers that would join them in the fight against the Covenant.

The Pelican made a steep turn as it descended, and slowed down little by little until it made contact with the landing pad. The boiling hot bulkheads and blazing engines kicked up more steam as the light rain landed on the dropship and the heated tarmac surrounding it. David strolled towards the rear hatch of the Pelican as it cranked open, casting a dim light on the Spartan Captain. When he came to stand just beyond the rear hatch, he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps walking down the anti-skid plates on the rear hatch. When he jumped to the ground beside him, David was nearly overcome with shock and awe. Wearing Mk V[B] armor, Athens' humidity and the drizzle covered it in a mix of rainwater and condensation created by his body heat and fission reactor powering his suit. The jet black plates covering his helm, torso, and legs shimmered in the lights from the interior of the Pelican and the buildings surrounding the tarmac. Ammo packs, knives, grenades, and other assorted tools littered his suit, some of which David could not recognize. His arms were covered in brick red gauntlets and hulking black pauldrons that only added his imposing stature. He outstretched his open hand towards David, putting light on the silver text running up the armor just below his right collar. "_Martin-216_" His mind stopped dead, for years he heard secondhand tales of the mythic Spartan-2.5s…

When Dr. Halsey created the Spartan-II project, she 'recruited' seventy-five children between the ages of six and eight years old. Unfortunately, the project called for an even one hundred children, obviously out of the UNSC's price range. Over the course of six years she was able to get enough funding for five more children. But by the time she received the funding, the target children were in their teenage years, which was too old for the Spartan project genetic enhancements. She chose five children, and subjected them to the same training and modifications as the Spartan-IIs, but then tossed them into the pile of 'run of the mill' Spartan-IIIs. Despite their posts, each one performed far beyond the expectations of both types of Spartans. David memorized the ID tags of the five legendary soldiers, and two-one-six was standing right in front of him.

"You there, Captain?" The Spartan asked, his voice commanding and imposing. David snapped out of his trance and looked to his hand, finally understanding his greeting. Upon shaking hands, he introduced himself, "Spartan-216, Lieutenant Commander Martin Shepard reporting for duty." The other two Spartans removed themselves from the Pelican, along with a few ODSTs. They began unloading crates of supplies, weapons, and equipment and handing it to workers who transported them to other parts of the base. David looked over Martin's shoulder when he saw a Spartan in purple armor wheeling a cage towards the Spartan barracks, it was rather large and it emanated strange noises.

"Spartan-254, Captain David Silver of Silver Team. Welcome to Athens, the barracks is over there. Get some shuteye while you can, the sun rises at 0700 and you will be briefed at that time." Martin left for the barracks and the Pelican took off once again.


End file.
